You may have noticed I am not as engaged with the blog right now. Truth is, I have a lot on my mind. As with many expats, this summer will bring a move from Kuwait, and moves take a lot of energy, both mental, emotional and physical.
I do some of the packing myself, because having something to do helps me fight the sadness I feel about leaving, and also because the things that the packers don’t see, don’t disappear. I know that sounds cynical.
This is my 30th move. In one of my early moves, two packers arrived with great big bags. It did occur to me that was rather odd, but I was a sweet and trusting young woman. When I arrived at the other end of the country missing two sterling silver cups engraved with my son’s name and the date of his birth, I started to get wiser about moving. To this day, it hurts me inside that someone would steal cups given to me to commemorate our son’s birth. It isn’t the cups. It’s that they were celebrating a very special event. It still hurts.
The second illumination was arriving at my destination to discover my riding boots packed with my formal gowns. it wasn’t the dresses. It was that someone cared so little that my worn, dirty boots would be packed with those filmy, fantasy creations. It was almost hostile. I still remember it, and it has to be over 20 years ago.
One move, each piece of tupperware was wrapped individually. One salad bowl – plastic – was wrapped in one large box. Even though the government was paying for these moves, not me, it sent a strong message. Someone was stretching the square footage of the move. Now, I pack my own tupperware, and it easily ALL goes in one box, and no, not a lot of wrapping.
One move, three boxes just never showed up, and they contained things of no value to anyone but me.
I have a thing about putting too much value on things. I don’t want to miss things – I want to let them go. I am good at letting go of things I choose to let go of, and I find I am not at all good at letting go of things taken from me when I had no choice.
And it’s a whole lot easier for me to focus on packing things, and thinking about things that have gone missing than to allow myself to experience the PAIN of all I leave behind every time I move, the sweet friendships, the church, the teams I play on, the sights, the smells. Sometimes I think all my photos are an attempt to hang on to something I know I will have to leave behind.
Little Child’s Prayer
O Lord.. .. in this year please send clothes…
for all those poor ladies in dad’s computer…
I have a good friend who sends me the most amazing material. This one just cracked me up . ..